The crew, shaken but unbroken, strides into the forest, where they are swallowed by the trees.
The mushrooms lead you to a weeping willow whose branches dip so low and whose foliage is so thick it obscures vision completely. As you pass through it, you suddenly find yourself on a green field lightly dusted with the remnants of a night’s snowfall. The air drops ten degrees in an instant, and the otherworldly fragrances of the fey realm vanish.
As you and the rest of the crew turn around, you find no trace of the tree, or any landmarks at all for a hundred yards in any direction. The feygate has vanished.
Back they way you came (or, the way you would have seemed to come, had you traveled in the mundane manner), the hills head up into pine forests about a quarter mile to the west. In front of you, about fifty feet away at its closest point, a slight depression in the ground hides a meandering stream from sight, though not hearing. The stream continues eastward toward the coast until, about a quarter mile away, it hits a small earthen wall coated in greenery and topped by wafting smoke. You spot a rowboat out on the water and get the impression you’ve found a small fishing village.
You hear a woman’s voice give a command, followed by the clacking of wood on wood.
After a moment, two women step into view around a small bend in the river. They are dueling intensely with wooden swords, and display some degree of martial skill. The blonde one notices you first, holds up a hand to halt the duel, and points. Her companion lowers her sword and turns.
She eyes your weapons and armor warily, and her gaze lingers on the goblin and tengu members of your party. Catching sight of Amka, her wariness fades somewhat.
She turns and waves her arm, indicating the structures in the distance.
She turns back to you.
Okoteck rather visibly pulls himself together as the feel of the fell spirit's attention cuts off. By the time the group reaches the Green King, his gaze is curious rather than crazed, and he watches the proceedings with interest, itching to record them (though he doesn't take his notebook out at the time--it seems... inappropriate).
When it is time to depart, he bows low to the Green King. "My thanks indeed, for what little they are worth," he says, then turns and leaves.
He focuses hard on Inga when she starts speaking. His knowledge of Jotun is more... academic than practical, and it takes effort for him to follow her words. When she finishes, he bobs his head in greeting to her and speaks.
Inga’s eyes widen momentarily.
She turns to Skada.
Amka, noticing Kork's befuddlement, begins to translate for him.
It is a five-minute walk to the village wall. Upon crossing its threshold, the inhabitants—of whom only ten or so appear to be in the village at the moment—turn to regard you with polite interest. Inga waves reassuringly, and they smile at you as you head toward the largest building.
Upon entering, you discover that it is a dining hall with a wooden floor, and you note that in the gaps between the beams the dirt is visible. Based on the inner dimensions, you discern that the wall is dual-layered, and there is likely thatch stuffed into the gap between them to winterize the place. The large table taking up the middle third of the room can be turned on its side and stacked against a wall to free up the space.
The only door other than the entrance creaks open, and a physically imposing man in his early forties steps through, followed by two men in their twenties who are clearly related to the older man. One has dark hair and is dressed in acolyte garb, the other light hair and is dressed as a warrior.
The older man takes in the sight of twenty-odd strangers standing in his mead hall, including a bird-man and a goblin, but keeps his expression a mask of collected and well-earned confidence as he puffs on a walnut pipe.
The younger man with light hair eyes the visitors with curiosity, but the dark-haired man next to him, who could only be his brother, is reserved and standoffish, and stares off-puttingly at the party as the older man introduces himself in a warm, booming voice.
Ferrino lets out a long-suffering sigh, weighed down by the catastrophe that was the last few weeks. Speaking in rusty Dwarven, which is apparently well enough understood in these parts, the captain introduces each member of his crew, translates when needed as they describe their skills, and finally lays out his predicament, while Okoteck translates for those who don't speak Dwarven.
"We are... Far Outlanders, who were shipwrecked and need to return home, across the sea. To do that we will need a ship capable of long ocean voyages. Do you know where we might find one?”"
Bronwen's face creases in thought as he considers the captain's dilemma.
The captain sighs, disappointed but not defeated. "That will take many years, I'm afraid."
After a moment, he changes the subject.
As the conversation continues, a young woman in simple clothing wearing ritualistic charms quietly enters through the door behind you, strides around the table, and stands beside the dark-haired acolyte. Bronwen glances at her and smiles.
He motions toward your party, and her gaze follows his outstretched hand. After a moment, she replies hesitantly,
The dark-robed acolyte leans forward to glance at Nirri around his father's bulk.
The chieftain laughs amiably.
Hearing this, Wurl briefly stiffens, but manages to hide his consternation fairly well, or at least well enough for his father to ignore it.
Gunnar turns to the rest of the crew. "Well, I've had enough mysticism for ten lifetimes, so forgive me if I don't want to wait around for this crone."
The crew murmurs agreement. Seeing discontent brewing and seeking to nip it in the bud, the captain says to you all, "Let's spend two days recuperating here, then we'll split up. You five stay here and wait for the crone-" he points to Okoteck, Syper, Jaym'row, Kork, and Jade, "-while the rest of us head to this Oxbane Keep and get our bearings commercially. We'll need to find or build a shipyard of the right size and make..."
"We can wait here, certainly," Okoteck replies to the captain, "But given the... enthusiasm other nations will likely show in coming here, and what we have learned about the situation here, it seems likely things will drastically change over the course of the next two or three years, for good or ill."
"We'll burn that bridge when we come to it," the gunner replies, chuckling.
"Let us hope it is only a bridge and not an age that burns," Okoteck murmurs in reply, his dark eyes gazing past Gunnar.
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Upon crossing the border into the Land Beyond, Jade exhales suddenly and her aura changes from its usual stormy appearance to a still fine mist onto which a rainbow plays briefly before condensing into whisps of cotton-like clouds which begin orbiting her lazily as they walk and talk with the Green King and his fellows.
Once they have exited out of the feygate, the clouds of her aura thicken and darken back to something closer to her usual.
"Gifts from the fey are never free," she says apprehensively, remembering the fairy stories of her youth. "I'm not saying it wasn't worth it to escape the tuunbaq, but there will be a reckoning sometime."
~~~
When they approach the village, Jade dismisses her aura to avoid drawing attention to herself.
She is bewildered by all the Jotun and Dwarven being bandied about, but she is grateful for Amka's translations.
"Thank you, Chief Bronwen. I am Jade Morrow," she returns the greeting and offer of hospitality.
At a lull in the conversation, she pipes up: "I know this is a long shot, but my father Jep Morrow's ship, the Stormweaver, might have been blown up here by a storm. Has anyone here heard or seen anything?"
The rest of the crew trades some of their supplies in exchange for a wagon big enough to carry all their remaining materiel, an oxen to draw it, and some leftover coins for their journey. They leave for Oxbane Keep at the crack of dawn on the third day, muscles recovered from the agony of dragging the sleds through the forests of the Other Place and down the road to the village.
Jaym'row and Skada practice sparring in their free time, Inga occasionally joining in and Othek dropping by to watch from time to time. No one in the party sees Wurl after your meeting with Bronwen, and you later learn from Nirri that he left town the day after you arrived to return to the nearby monastery, located three days ride southwest from town and home to a small order of priests of Morghast.
Okoteck's miraculous leukochromism is taken as an auspicious omen by Nirri and the townsfolk, but the typical commoner's respectful aversion to the supernatural puts even more distance between him and the others than normal for a member of a species they have never before encountered. With the free time, he can finally take musings scribbled in the margins of his various notes and perfect them. When his work is complete, two new arcane spells are inscribed in his spellbook.
Nirri is intrigued by Jade's unusual powers, and the two of them strike up an unusual partnership, the young witch performing various minor rites to test their interactions with Jade's abilities and the budding elemental adept learning minor shamanistic totems from Nirri. In the process, her experiences over the last several months coalesce and widen the elemental gateway within her, unlocking new abilities.
Amka wiles away the time not spent fishing or puttering around the village teaching Syper the saruqi art of throat-singing and the stories of her people. He composes a new song to give life to one of her tales, and to his surprise it unlocks occult energies.
Kork is Kork, puttering about and keeping himself entertained in ways that perplex and baffle those around him. When not observing Nirri, he is collecting various knickknacks of occult significance, though whether to increase his powers or for his own amusement is impossible to discern.
Once they have exited out of the feygate, the clouds of her aura thicken and darken back to something closer to her usual.
"Gifts from the fey are never free," she says apprehensively, remembering the fairy stories of her youth. "I'm not saying it wasn't worth it to escape the tuunbaq, but there will be a reckoning sometime."
"Kokr rather owe a favour than be dead. Have a few months left. Besides, Youngling, got lesson already. Look at poor... person. Suddenly in body of woman, must learn to deal with styling hair, moon, lack of moustache-" he stops to reconsider. "Well, that already a problem before. Still. New problems. Will fancy best friend now? Will court boys or girls? Many questions in air. Many stories to hear."
"We can wait here, certainly," Okoteck replies to the captain, "But given the... enthusiasm other nations will likely show in coming here, and what we have learned about the situation here, it seems likely things will drastically change over the course of the next two or three years, for good or ill."
"Kork not concerned. Madness bird seem like able guardian. Not much mining and cutting happen while it hovers in sky." the goblin waves his concerns away. "Unless Madness bird and Dark spirit work together. Big problem. Should look into it."
Recently, Kork seems to be in a very contemplative state. Perhaps the events of the recent weeks had left a mark? Perhaps. In either case, Kork finds himself observing the locals and their practices at first, but then retreats to the outskirts of the village, observing the surrounding hills pensively. He watches the trees swing in the breeze, and even joins the few locals on the lakeside, despite having no means of communication, and catching fish. It's not like fishermen talk too much, anyway. On occasion, he does trail Dreamcatchair. He's not even shy about it, just keeps quiet or tries to communicate with gestures.
With that being a less than stellar way to listen to stories, Kork walks over to Amka. When making sure they can talk, he waddles over. "Things move fast now. Sorry for your brother and tribe. Kork not know you good, but know how that feel. If Tribegirl want to be alone, Kork is leaving. If want to talk, can help Kork build trolls nearby." he grins a soft smile, and he turns around and leaves.
Spekaing of which, the most strange thing that happened. From watching the locals, Kork picked up hobby. He started collecting stones. But not to keep. Most of them, anyway. Instead, he has begun building trolls surrounding the village, muttering to himself in the process.
Jaym'row kept moving once Mirin was subdued and continued to focus on putting one foot in front of the other to keep her mind off the terrifying prospects of becoming like Mirin. She was used to dealing with threats from flesh and blood creatures and people, even the forces of nature. But a spirit that could possess you and turn you into a cannibal was too much.
Entering the fey realm had a transformative effect on her. She was fascinated by the woodland surroundings and wished she could get out her violin and try to capture some of the music she could hear. She also smelled things that made her want to bolt from the path and follow her sensitive nose.
When the Green King pronounced the rune name while pointing at her, something happened. For a moment she felt lucky and wealthy, which was strange considering the circumstances seemed to contradict such feelings. As she walked with the others toward the new gate, she began to hear music, not the music of the fey but seeming to come from her spirit. She also saw images or heard sounds of familiar comforting memories of her childhood. When she stared at the image, it faded like smoke in the wind. When she looked to see the source of the familiar sound, it too receded.
Once outside, she felt much better. The fishing village seemed like a paradise after the trauma of the past days. She began to hum little melodies that popped into her head and as she did she could hear music that harmonized her tune as if a quartet of back-up musicians was following her. She looked about and could tell no one else could hear this.
She had learned to understand and speak Jotun from her days with her family caravan. A bard of the tribe had a book of mythology and lore written in the language. The bard taught the language to her after she bugged him incessantly so she could read the stories. Trying to remember the words she had learned gave her a start at communicating with the villagers. She had trouble understanding some words and could not pronounce others properly, but little by little, she accommodated and enjoyed learning about the people and their traditional stories.
She feared to go to sleep, after Amka warned that these dark spirits would infiltrate dreams. Instead, she had a particularly vivid dream in which she was back in the fey world but this time free to wander and interact. A satyr with a set of pan flutes taught her a special word that he said she should say whenever she wished to be surrounded by music. A sprite tricked her with vivid images of strange creatures or animal sounds which always turned out to be illusions. She taught her a different word that she said would allow her to manifest sights or sounds when it suited her purposes.
The next day, remembering the dream and the magic words, she took a short walk to a secluded grove and spoke the music word. Serene sounds wafted around her, violins harmonizing with tremolo tones as a flute warbled a cheery tune. She found she could change the music by imagining other sounds. It was intoxicating. The effect never lasted more than a minute, but she could restore it with her triggering word and a gesture like a conductor with a baton about to conduct a symphony.
Then she experimented with the ability to create a figment out of her mind, either an image or a sound. She did not even need to say the word out loud, only think it. She experimented to see how big she could make an illusion (a volume of about five cubic feet). She could keep it going as long as she concentrated on it. Sounds worked much the same.
She drew her rapier and experimented using a figment to create a distraction that could help her make sneak attacks and decided fights might be much more interesting with this strategy.
To introduce her new abilities to the others, she gathered them around to listen to a new melody she had composed. Just before playing, she activated her music and played, delighted that the music fit the melody she was playing. She also demonstrated a few figments and warned them that it would be difficult to resist using them in harmless pranks.
She spends time with anyone in the village who can teach her any traditional songs or melodies, which she then practices until she can remember them. She is a sponge when anyone offers to tell a story and happily shares any tales others want to hear from her archive of folk tales. She also enjoys fencing with Skada and Inga.
Despite all these distractions, Jaym'row makes it a point to check with Amka regularly and tries to get to know her and become friends. She offers to compose a ballad to celebrate the best traditions of her people.
“All right then,” replies the blacksmith, who lies back down and is snoring again moments later.
The bird turns to look at Okoteck. “I think we’ll make a great team.”
The corners of Okoteck's eyes--still dark, unlike his feathers--narrow with mirth at Hyggiandi's antics. "I'm certain we shall as well, but perhaps we should take this discussion outside?"
He offers his arm as a perch for the white raven, then quietly makes his way out of the tent and into a more open area.
"This should be better for discussion, though I'm certain we'll be interrupted. I hadn't thought my agreement would be quite so... visible. Now then, you are to be my guide? Then you are my familiar, correct? A conduit through which the power of the pact is manifest?"
Okoteck's miraculous leukochromism is taken as an auspicious omen by Nirri and the townsfolk, but the typical commoner's respectful aversion to the supernatural puts even more distance between him and the others than normal for a member of a species they have never before encountered. With the free time, he can finally take musings scribbled in the margins of his various notes and perfect them. When his work is complete, two new arcane spells are inscribed in his spellbook.
Later that day, when Okoteck has some time to look at his notes from the difficult times of the past few days... he lets out a long, piercing wail after examining them.
"Useless!" he cries. "What was I thinking? Was I truly just scribbling whatever came to mind?"
He drops the notebook he'd been reading to the ground, hard... then almost as quickly picks it up again. "There must be *something* useful, at least. I used all this paper! When am I going to get more? Maybe I could still... wait."
He stares for a while at a little diagram he'd written in the margin of his notes. "That... hmm... actually..."
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During your time awaiting the crone, you meet Fargas, the village blacksmith. Uncle of Bronwen, and now too old to go on patrol, he whiles away his time in gossip and with his hobby of the last ten years, blacksmithing. You learn a great deal from him:
While Bronwen is called a chief, his true title is skutilsvein (knight, lit. “table-man”), and a senior military commander under the jarl, Björn, who rules from Oxbane Keep. The land is mostly peaceful, with only bandits and the occasional ogre or troll raid to vex the peasantry.
Bronwen earned his high rank during the last great war, some twenty years ago, when Grichord Darktongue convinced Hrym Bloodbeard to rebel against Björn’s father, Vrykr, sparking a conflict that saw the province of Thegnheim and its mountainside towns split away from coastal Graenirvellir.
Though the battles of yore were fierce, the children of Vrykr and Hrym have pursued trade and diplomacy over conflict, and the huscarls and landsknechts now joke that they have become as useless as teats on a bull.
Three days ride to the southwest is Wunirö, a town of about 500 built in the shadow of the monastery for which Wurl left. Four day’s ride to the north is Oxbane Keep, a town of roughly a thousand souls built on a strategic river crossing that saw many battles in days gone by but now is known for the incredibly hard steel it forges using coal mined from a nearby seam.
A week’s journey to the east of Oxbane is the town of Rytingr, capital of Thegnheim, and in the foothills of the mountains two days beyond is the dwarven town of Nauthir.
And ten or so days’ ride north of Oxbane Keep lie the reason for the end of the war. There lie the Deadlands. Years of brutal and bloody conflict soaked the ground with death and pain, leaving an eerie realm rotten with gateways to the Dark World. A cold and empty stretch of country where the corpses of the dead rise at the next nightfall to plague the world of the living, the Deadlands are avoided by all but the most desperate or the most depraved. Thankfully, though, most of its unrisen denizens cannot venture beyond the mystical borders of that benighted country, and those who can, choose not to for some inscrutable rationale.
Fiskurvellir itself is Bronwen’s summer home, and as such his huscarls, under the command of his son Othek, provide considerably more security than one would expect for such a small village, and it has well-maintained roads leading southwest to Wunirö and north to Oxbane Keep.
Othek, as commander of the huscarls, offers to buy the battleaxes and harpoon at full price (5 gp total), while Nirri is willing to purchase the shamanic herbs and Tuluruqi pendants (45gp total).
For 40 gp, Othek offers to sell you four horses and a pony (for Kork), together with matching bridles, saddles, and saddlebags, and a month's free stabling for each steed, which would leave 2gp per player for other purchases.
Jaym'row wanders back toward the village from the nearby woods, attracted by Okoteck's wail.
"Hey, another Tengu! Have you met Okoteck? He's a Tengu also, only with the more traditional black... Oh. Is that you Oko? You've changed! Something is different. I can't quite put my finder on it. Actually I can." She approaches and touches one of his arm feathers .
Then she notices the white raven. "Who's your new friend?"
Jaym'row always loved looking at the stars when she was a kit growing up. On the ship sailing north, she tried to spot the constellations she was so familiar with and noticed them shifting, with some that always appeared to the south disappearing below the horizon.
Since the trip through the fey world, she has tried to determine where the group is now compared to where the ship sank.
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Jaym'row's perusal of the night sky tells her they have likely traveled at least four hundred but less than six hundred miles from the shipwreck, which is mostly due south but slightly to the west.
Rough map of the areas of Thalis you have explored or had described to you.
Jaym'row's perusal of the night sky tells her they have likely traveled at least four hundred but less than six hundred miles from the shipwreck, which is mostly due south but slightly to the west.
Rough map of the areas of Thalis you have explored or had described to you.
Kork had built and destroyed 16 trolls over the last few days. Much like making a mandala, when Kork is done with it, he pulls a rock from the middle to make it crumble to the ground. This is the 17th. The last one he is building here. Probably. But he will leave this one standing. This one is built between the settlement and the way from which the southerners arrived. Like a guard standing watch, the troll stands ever vigilant. Not that it can do anything to stop something. Perhaps just warn someone. Time will tell. Kork steps away from the troll - gently, slowly. His tongue pressed against his upper lip in concentration.
He walks around his guardian, nods and claps once. He seems happy with what he made. The thing is definitely taller than Kork, just above 4 ft high. Interestingly enough, it is fairly narrow near the base and gets wider at around 3 ft. Patterns made from gravel adorn the area surrounding the troll. Kork smiles and does a series of fast, quiet claps. He heads for the settlement, looking around.
"Freckles?" he calls as he walks between the houses. He shrugs up and down, left and right, and shrugs, heading to find Nirri instead. He pulls out the ivory pendant from his cloak, and knocks.
As Kork inspects the magical symbol on the door, he determines it is a charm to ward against becoming lost in bad weather.
The door creaks open and Nirri looks out. At first she sees nothing and is about to close the door, before she remembers to drop her gaze, thus spotting the goblin.
She nods, smiles amiably and motions Kork inside. "Come in, come in! What is the business of the day? Or do you have a question about the amulet?"
"Hey, another Tengu! Have you met Okoteck? He's a Tengu also, only with the more traditional black... Oh. Is that you Oko? You've changed! Something is different. I can't quite put my finder on it. Actually I can." She approaches and touches one of his arm feathers .
Then she notices the white raven. "Who's your new friend?"
Okoteck croaks one of his corvid laughs and permits Jaym'row to touch his feathers. They feel just as they had before, in spite of the drastic change in color. "This is Hyggiandi," he says, nodding at the raven. "As for my change in plummage, it seems our passage has drawn some attention from spirits beyond the dark ones. I made a bargain with one such spirit from the court of Silani--a natural foe to the horror unleashed upon the land, I think. My feathers are simply marking the bargain I have made."
---------------------------------
Okoteck is glad to get some idea as to the lay of the land and its history, though the little he gets from the brief time with Fargas only sharpens his appetite for more.
He advocates for taking Othek's deal. "I suspect we shall need to travel far and swiftly," he states.
"Freckles?" he calls as he walks between the houses. He shrugs up and down, left and right, and shrugs, heading to find Nirri instead. He pulls out the ivory pendant from his cloak, and knocks.
"Yes, Kork?" Jade asks, remembering her nickname. "Nirri was just showing me the finer points of talismancraft. Oh, that's one of those amulets the wolfmen were wearing, wasn't it?" she says, gesturing to the pendant in Kork's hands.
Syper spends much of the week learning more about throat singing and fiddling for the locals. It gives him ample time to speak with the village and quickly picks up the local language. Once, you catch him singing to a small fey, quickly returning to the Green King's court upon being noticed.
He occasionally experiments with throat singing through a large horn, anything to carry his voice further.
The door creaks open and Nirri looks out. At first she sees nothing and is about to close the door, before she remembers to drop her gaze, thus spotting the goblin. She nods, smiles amiably and motions Kork inside. "Come in, come in! What is the business of the day? Or do you have a question about the amulet?"
"Yes, Kork?" Jade asks, remembering her nickname. "Nirri was just showing me the finer points of talismancraft. Oh, that's one of those amulets the wolfmen were wearing, wasn't it?" she says, gesturing to the pendant in Kork's hands.
"Hi!" Kork smiles at the mystic, then realises she doesn't understand, so he makes a more universal gesture. He waves, ivory dangling from his wrist on a leather strap.
He waits for a moment. When an invitation inside is translated, he steps through the door.
"Hello! Gathering? Kork interrupt something?" he looks around, seeing Amka and Jade inside. He quickly scans the room for any interesting doodads. He also quickly looks for Laika. Then he snaps back to the topic at hand. "Yes - amulets of wolf-people." Kork nods at Jade's question and starts untying the leather strap on his wrist. As he does so, he turns to the mystic. "Yes, Kork curious about this. Tribegirl say, could be a ward. Kork not sure. Would like Dreamcatchair's opinion, and -if- amulet shield from things, find out what things, and maybe make more. Hm?"
He looks at Jade and Amka. "Make charms?" he tilts his head curiously, and opens one side of his coat with his free hand, showing an array of various curios hanging from small hooks and straps. "Need materials?" he smiles.
The goblin snaps back into the conversation with Nirri shortly afterwards. "Oh! Speak of protection..." he looks at the floor sheepishly. "Some of crew maybe make fey angry before. Kork not comfortable having fey stalker. Can help? Know a barrier of some kind?"
Nirri gently receives the amulet and examines it thoroughly, intoning strange words and weaving strange symbols with her hands.
You cannot identify the magic she is using.
After a minute of gazing intently at the pendant, she returns it with a shrug.
As Amka relays Kork's second query, the witch thinks for a moment.
Jade cranes her neck trying to find the creature. "Er, Nirri, you don't have a really short old guy doing chores for you, do you?" Jade asks, wondering if she's gone crazy.
Kork extends the hand towards the pendant after Nirriis done with it. "If not mind, Kork keep this one. Four more among the crew. Can ask them."
Diverse Lore
Thaumaturge
Your wandering studies mean you've heard rumors or theories about almost every topic... though admittedly, your sources aren't always the most reliable. You can take a –2 penalty to your check to Recall Knowledge with Esoteric Lore to Recall Knowledge about any topic, not just the usual topics available for Esoteric Lore. Additionally, when you succeed at your check to Exploit a Vulnerability, compare the result of your Esoteric Lore check to the DC to Recall Knowledge for that creature; if that number would be a success or a critical success, you gain information as if you had succeeded at the Recall Knowledge check.
The young witch turns to Jade.
Okoteck croaks one of his corvid laughs and permits Jaym'row to touch his feathers. They feel just as they had before, in spite of the drastic change in color. "This is Hyggiandi," he says, nodding at the raven. "As for my change in plummage, it seems our passage has drawn some attention from spirits beyond the dark ones. I made a bargain with one such spirit from the court of Silani--a natural foe to the horror unleashed upon the land, I think. My feathers are simply marking the bargain I have made."
"Now Kork's really going to bug you for feathers. I seem to have gained something from our detour through the fey realm too. I can cast a couple spells now! Listen."
She raises a finger and says a word and music starts playing. Some strings are playing a chord with a few woodwinds in as well, a minor mood. Then Jaym'row concentrates and an image of one of Kork's trolls appears nearby, as the music grows louder and more mysterious. Looking closely, it is not hard to tell it's not real, but at first glance it seems solid enough. Then both the music and the illusion end.
"Ta Da!" she concludes her demonstration.
Okoteck, already having a notebook open, quickly flips to one of the few empty pages and starts writing something down. "Interesting... illusions, or glamors, are often associated with the fey. And you heard the Green King speaking of runes associated with us. Yours was... Fehu, as I recall. I can double-check that later... I was more clear-headed after that meeting, I should have it all written down. Regardless, that apparently has some association with luck, which is also sometimes associated with the fey, so perhaps that is related...?"
He keeps writing even as he looks up to Jaym'row. "Regardless, I think the events of the past few days have changed all of us, and not just in terms of new magics or the like. How are you dealing with what happened, and our current situation?"
Joining Okoteck, Syper nods. "Ansuz was mine."
Speaking of changed, if anything, the man from the swamp appeared to take to the new environment better than he had indicated before the party arrived. He sighed, casting a glance to the tree line.
Did his eyepatch switch eyes? And were his eyes always that blue?
"It's hard to think what we should be doing, now. We were hired to arrive, scout, mine for gold or mithril, take it home. But maybe we are home now. If anything, I doubt anyone following our ship is going to enjoy Cipriano's welcome."
He holds out a gloved hand, where some fresh flakes flutter into his palm. "The call feels frozen, for now..." he mutters.
"So, we're going to have to see whether this elder will have more in store for us. I'm sure our story is still being written."
He flashes a wry, confident smile, again towards the tree line.
"I'm not certain what Ansuz is... yet..." Okoteck comments, then a spark of mirth seems to light his eyes. "Why Syper, I would think you of all people would be able to recognize what's happening. We're at the beginning of a grand quest!"
The mirth in his eyes dies. "Think of it. That fell spirit summoned, not long after we arrived? And we know we were only the first of many. How many will it kill? What kind of power will that unleash? And here we are, told that bright runes mark us out, and soon finding new abilities and allies?" He nods at Hyggiandi.
"There is a pattern to this. Play and counterplay. But which pieces are we?"
The white raven caws and shuffles from talon to talon.
"I haven't the foggiest. I'm simply quite thrilled that someone is finally paying attention to me on occasion, and not because they want to eat part of my liver."
"Don't worry, anything that wants a part of your liver is probably after all our livers now," Okoteck jokes.
*********************
Kork had built and destroyed 16 trolls over the last few days. Much like making a mandala, when Kork is done with it, he pulls a rock from the middle to make it crumble to the ground. This is the 17th. The last one he is building here. Probably. But he will leave this one standing. This one is built between the settlement and the way from which the southerners arrived. Like a guard standing watch, the troll stands ever vigilant. Not that it can do anything to stop something. Perhaps just warn someone. Time will tell. Kork steps away from the troll - gently, slowly. His tongue pressed against his upper lip in concentration.
He walks around his guardian, nods and claps once. He seems happy with what he made. The thing is definitely taller than Kork, just above 4 ft high. Interestingly enough, it is fairly narrow near the base and gets wider at around 3 ft. Patterns made from gravel adorn the area surrounding the troll. Kork smiles and does a series of fast, quiet claps. He heads for the settlement, looking around.
Okoteck had noted Kork's odd constructions, so when he sees the goblin leave one intact he can't help but question Kork the next time he sees him. "So Kork... what are those curious creations of yours? And why did you leave the last one intact unlike the others?"
"Regardless, I think the events of the past few days have changed all of us, and not just in terms of new magics or the like. How are you dealing with what happened, and our current situation?"
"I was scared, for sure, getting through all that with Mirian and the Green Man and the Fey realm. But now that we're through that, I'm looking forward to quite an adventure. One of the tales I'm fond of telling has a young one at the beginning of an epic adventure quote the advice of an older adventurer, 'He used often to say there was only one Road; that it was like a great river: its springs were at every doorstep, and every path was its tributary. "It’s a dangerous business, my young friend, going out of your door," he used to say. "You step into the Road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to."'"